


Wounded

by PurpleArrowzandLeather



Series: Solitude [1]
Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Hurt Loki, Slow-ish burn, Worried Thor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-05-13 02:04:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14740004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PurpleArrowzandLeather/pseuds/PurpleArrowzandLeather
Summary: You and Loki are prisoners of war. You despise him.





	Wounded

          You were stunned out of a fitful sleep when the prince you loathed most of the two was thrown into the cell with you, his eyes closed and a bloody cut on his face. 

          His has two thick metal bands, one for each wrist, that you would bet stifle his magic.

          You quietly draw closer to his side, rolling him onto his back. There's an arrow sticking out of him, his thigh still sluggishly bleeding around the shaft. 

          "Liesmith." you hiss, nudging him. "Wake up." When he doesn't stir, you grab the shaft of the arrow. "Wake up, snake."

          Pain crosses his features, almost making you regret inflicting it, but he doesn't wake. You grimace, turning the wooden shaft of the arrow until it starts to unscrew from its head. Something tells you Loki wouldn't appreciate having it ripped out of his skin, least of all by you. Once the shaft is out, you rip off the long part of your shirt, wondering what part of your brain convinced you to help him. He makes a distressed noise as you cinch it tight around his leg and you look up at his face. You hate how innocent he looks.

          You check him over for any breaks or other wounds, finding only a sword cut on his arm. 

          Waiting for the next hour, he doesn't wake, only growing steadily more uneasy in his sleep. Frowning, you unwrap his leg wound, regrettably sticking your fingers into his wound to get to the head. He sucks in a sharp breath, but still doesn't rouse. You roll your eyes.  _What did you expect, princy?_

          It's in deep, but you don't want to leave it there. His blood sticks to your fingers and you wince as you find the edge of the arrowhead. Carefully tugging it out, you set it on the floor next to you after cinching your makeshift bandage back up. You lightly smell the head. Aside from the blood, the scent is tangy and you groan.  _Great. They poisoned him. Now what am I supposed to do?_

          You carefully screw the head back onto the shaft and hide it, deeming it stupid for them to leave a weapon with you in the first place. 

          You clean him up as best you can, tugging him into the corner of the room. Cursing your small girl hands and your slight womanly frame, you heave with most of your strength just to move him. He's a lot heavier than he looks. 

          "Idiot." you growl, cursing him under your breath. 

          Sitting next to him with the arrow clenched in your hand, you wonder why you'd even protect him.  _Pompous prince._ The other half of your brain tells you that it's because he's helpless at the moment. And boy do you hate it when the other half of your brain is right. 

          You almost don't notice when he wakes, but you hear a small groan escape his mouth. "Idiot." you say again.

          The snake hisses, whether in pain or irritation, you aren't sure. He doesn't open his eyes, but you're certain he can feel you sitting just behind him. He shifts.

          "Try not to move."

          He spits out a reply. "You dare give me orders, wretch?"

          "Fine. Help the poison move faster. Not my problem if you die."

          The Liesmith stops, resuming his previous position on the floor. His breathing is shallow as he lies there. "Why?"

          "Why what, snake?"

          "Why would you help me?"

          "I've been asking myself the same thing." you huff, tearing off another piece of your shirt to wrap his arm up tight. 

          Silvertongue stays quiet as you work, only occasionally hissing out a sharp retort when you growl at him. You otherwise don't speak. Sweat beads on his forehead after a little while and you put a hand to it. He growls out a warning, which you don't heed, leaving your hand there. You can tell that it feels better than he'd ever admit. 

          You don't know how you can tell, but he's getting weaker, eventually falling back into a restless sleep. A part of you wants to just let him die, but the reasonable side of you says you stand a better chance with him. Even if you do despise every bone in his body. You actually start to hope that he'll survive the night just so that you have someone to gripe at. He murmurs in his sleep, and he's shivering before too long. Loathe as you are to do so, you grumble, slipping in front of him and lying close to him to keep him warmer. 

          "You're lucky I'm nice, Liesmith."

          He doesn't respond. Little did you know, you were signing up to be unintentionally hugged, his arm stretching out to pull you as close as possible. You fight the urge to bite and scratch, not wanting to be at odds with the prince more than you already are. You have no choice but to fall asleep there. It's not.....  _completely_ unpleasant, aside from the fact that he's cold and clammy. 

          You wake to a silent room. The hand holding onto you is cold and limp, and you can't hear the Liesmith breathing behind you. You scramble to your knees, putting two fingers against his throat. You release a steady breath as you feel a thready pulse against your skin. He's alive, barely. You tug him upright, pulling him with you as you back up against the wall, letting him lay flat on his back with his head against your stomach. The arrow in your hand will serve as a suitable weapon should you need it to protect yourself... and the prince, you suppose. You keep a close watch on the snake's breathing and check his pulse every once in a while. He's holding on for now. 

          Your captors drag you away from the prince's still body to resume your interrogation and you pray that he's still alive when you get back. They've been trying to get the location of Asgard's weaknesses out of you for days, so far with no success. You're certain that they have no idea how to torture someone, considering you know what real torture feels like. 

          They ask the same questions as before, striking your face and cutting at your arms when you give an answer they don't like. You spit blood on them when your lip splits and they pull your head back by your long hair. You grin up at them. They jam a dagger into your hand and you open your mouth in a soundless gasp. You won't give them the satisfaction of screaming this time.

          "Where are the rest of Asgard's armies hiding?"

          "You think I'd tell you?" You growl.

          They backhand you and your ears ring loudly enough to block out their next question. They aren't very creative.

          "Does prince Thor have weaknesses?"

          Still, you refuse to answer any of the rest, so they throw you back in the cell. Silvertongue is pale enough to be a corpse in the corner of the room. Holding your hand close to your chest, you grimace, crawling back over to him. 

          "Liesmith?"

          He doesn't move, and you're almost afraid to touch him. Placing your fingers on his throat again, you pull back, resting your hand on your forehead. He hasn't been dead long, his chest still warm. You decide quickly on what to do, placing your palms on the Liesmith's chest, pushing down in repeated motions to try to revive him. Swallowing back your pride, you tilt his chin up and plug his nose, breathing air into him. You almost stop at the coldness of his skin, but tell yourself that it's worth a shot. You compress his chest a few more times, repeating your actions. You're about to give up when he takes a breath on his own, his eyes cracking open.

          "You-"

          "Don't speak." you snap. "You were dead."

          He pulls a hand up to his mouth, wiping it slowly, as if unsure as to whether he should be disgusted or grateful. He settles on exhaustion instead. You settle into the corner, helping Loki lie back with you to ease his weak breathing. 

          "Why are you doing this?"

          "Who would I annoy if you were dead?" you grumble. "Why aren't you healing?"

          "Runes." he says simply, pulling his arm up to show you one of his wrists. 

          You slip two fingers between the band and the Liesmith's skin and keep a hold on it, resting it against his chest. "Just don't fall asleep again, huh, snake? I don't feel much like reviving you twice. Besides, we stand a better chance together."

          The snake nods. 

          You frown at his reaction, but decide to say nothing. Your hand holding the band on his wrist is giving you access to his pulse so that you don't have to move. You press a hand to his head. "You've cooled down some."

          "I was dead." 

          You roll your eyes. "Barely."

          Your brow furrows when he doesn't respond. It's like he doesn't have the energy to fight you anymore, even with words. You thought that you'd enjoy his silence, but all it does is make you worried for the man that you hate. 

          "You're thinking too hard." the snake hisses. 

          You huff, gripping the slim band in your hand. With your free hand, you grab the arrow, scratching at the runes. The prince pricks at your attempt, watching as you saw away at the soft metal. You manage to mess up one of the runes and the Liesmith relaxes a little. Pleased that at least something is working, you continue to pick at all of the markings. Once the first band is inactive, Silvertongue relaxes into your grip. He doesn't force his other wrist on you, but you put your hand out for it anyway. 

          "They'll notice." 

          "You'll be able to heal."

          "I have enough leeway now to work with. I'd rather leave the other and bide my time."

          You huff, but put your hand down, still keeping your fingers looped in the band on his other wrist. "You aren't as much of an ass as I remember."

          "You aren't as big a fool as I remember either."

          You stiffen. There it is.  _"Perhaps_ I'm not trying hard enough to remind you. I did bring you back, after all."

          Silvertongue hisses, but he doesn't pull away from you. He's too busy taking all the warmth he can get to bother. "I have no argument against that decision. It's your own fault I'm here to annoy you."

          You grumble. "If I wanted to, I could still let you die."

          The prince snaps back his retort. "Then I suppose you are a fool."

          Anger sears through you, but you don't say anything. The prince's fingers twitch in agitation. You grumble under your breath.

          "What?" Loki hisses. 

          "I said 'I'm starting to remember why I hate you'."

          Loki scoffs. "A shame you ever forgot. I thought you might have actually become civil."

          "Unlikely." 

          You sit in silence, definitely regretting saving his life. You still absently scrape at the marks on the snake's band with your fingers, and he seems to be peering at something on your hands. His long fingers absently play with the straps of his shredded leather armor. 

          "What even happened, Liesmith?" He doesn't look like he's paying much attention, so you nudge him. "What happened? How did they capture you? Did they split you and Thor up?"

          "Something like that."

          "Come on. We're stuck here, snake. May as well speak up."

          Loki growls. "If you must know, though there are more important things to discuss, much like how we're getting out of here to assist with the war still being waged."

          "And as I said, we're stuck here, so tell me a story, Liesmith. How did you get split up from your doting brother?"

          "He doesn't  _dote,_ the oafish brute." Loki scowls, taking a labored breath. "He blunders about swinging his hammer like a warmongering buffoon."

          "Silvertongue, I don't want to hear about your brother any more than I want you hear about you. I  _want_ to know what stupid thing you did you get caught."

          "It wasn't-"

          " _Liesmith!_ " you hiss. 

          "Fine." his hand twitches down to his injured thigh and he grimaces. "My brother and I were on the front lines, well, mostly he was. I was watching his back, slinking around like the snake you believe me to be, keeping people alive." you flick his cheek and he snaps at your hand. "I made the mistake of stopping a mace from bludgeoning someone, and was distracted. Before I had the chance to realize what position I had put myself in, I was cut off from the army. By the time I had cut down most of the people in my way, I was neatly tucked into a corner. Thor saw me across the field just as I was struck by this arrow..." He taps the head of the one in your hand. "I went down after being knocked in the head. Thor came to my aid, or rather he tried to. As soon as he got near me and saw what they'd done, Anyone within a hundred feet was burnt to a crisp. He could do nothing for the arrow in my leg."

          "You should have been able to get away then."

          "Thor was.... caught by surprise. As he was trying to aid me, I had gotten up to keep his back clear. When the enemy ranks realized where we were, they came after us." Loki grimaces again, groaning. "We were separated and they dragged me off. My guess is that I'm meant as a bargaining chip."

          "Someone would actually bargain for your life? News to me." you grumble.

          "You have no reason to talk." he hisses. "You're here too, and so far no one has come for you."

          "I didn't get taken off the front line." 

          Loki attempts to get up, trying to leave your side at the blow to his pride. He only gets into a sitting position when he clutches his chest, smothering a pained cry. Your eyes widen, but you don't reach out to help him. It's only when you can hear him start to hyperventilate as he tries to breathe that you grip his shoulders and pull him back. 

          "Easy, Easy, just sit back. Breathe, Liesmith. Breathe."

          He struggles against your arms. "Can't- ca-can't."

          "Hey, listen to me. If you panic, you'll probably die. You got that?" he shakes his head and you pull him to your arms, frowning.  _I don't want to be here alone._   _"Liesmith! Loki!_ " you get around to his front, lying him flat on his back. "Breathe. You breathe, or we both die here."

          That seems to sober him a little and he offers you his other wrist. " _Get it off. Getitoff-G-get_ -" he breaks off, his other hand clamping down on your wrist. 

          You snag the arrow from the corner and scrape away at one of the runes, but it's not fast enough. With a desperate jerk of your hand, you jam the arrow into the band. It cracks and you rip it from his wrist. The snake calms, sucking in a deep breath of air as he clutches to your wrist. You don't know what to do now besides let him relax. 

          "Thank you. I did not anticipate the strength of the poison."

          You stiffen. "I don't want your thanks."

          "That's twice I'm not dead, and it's because of you. So you must want something." he groans out, pressing a hand swirling with magic to his thigh. "There has to be some reason you keep saving me."

          "Company." you answer honestly. "As poor as it is."

          He sits up, a crease in his brow. "Why do you loathe me so wholly in your words?" you hear what he doesn't say.  _But not with your actions?_

          You gently rub your thumb over the broken band in your hand, pulling it up to your chest. "You do not deserve to die by a dishonorable act done out of selfishness."

          "No? How do you think I deserve to die, since you didn't say I didn't deserve death at all?"

          You glance up at his expectant gaze. "Honorably. How else?"

          "Something tells me you expect much more than that." He says. "I think you want me to prove something."

          "So what if I do?" you snap.

          "I'd like to know what it is."

          "I doubt a coward such as yourself would ever be able to prove anything to me." you hiss, retreating to stand in front of the door, shutting your eyes against the slit of light shining in. 

          "You think me a coward?" he growls. 

          He gets up off the floor, following you, grabbing onto your shoulder and spinning you around to face him. "How am I to know you aren't one as well? You could have given yourself up to them the moment the fighting began."

          Before you realize what you've done, your hand is flying towards the prince, fingers curled into a tight fist. You never land the hit, his long, slender fingers grabbing onto your wrist and pinning you against the wall. You spit in his face.

          "You look down your nose at the rest of us, thinking yourself better than everyone around you!" You yank your fist from his grasp. "Being born into royalty, you grow up arrogant, people catering to your every whim! You think yourself so perfec-"

          You choke on the word and his hand latches around your throat. "Don't you _dare_ presume to know what I am! Not now, not ever! You have no idea what it has taken me to get this far, to earn the respect of the few who would ever deign to care for a monster like me! You know _nothing_ of who I am!"

          A choppy gasp of breath leaves your body and Loki releases you. You slouch against the wall, sucking in air and peering up at Silvertongue. You know that you didn't imagine the way the Liesmith's voice nearly broke as he called himself a monster. He's staring at his own hand, the one he just had around your throat, surely thinking of the word. He looks up at you. 

          "Perhaps you are right." he says softly. "I can prove nothing."

          You huff. "Feeling sorry for yourself already."

          Loki glares at you, stalking up to the door and peering out through the small slit, placing his palm against the deadbolt. "This door is imbued with magic."

          "Guess they must have known you'd be foolish enough to get caught." you scowl, gloating over his attempt to chance the subject.

          Loki ignores your jab, turning to face the rest of the room. "The whole room is covered in warding. It would take me days to get through it."

          "We have all the time you'll ever need."

          Loki scoffs, sitting down in the corner, closing his eyes. "I suppose I should get started then."

          You hear shuffling of fabric outside the cell and you turn. "Liesmith. They are coming."

          Silvertongue is not on his feet before the door opens, but they drag him out of the cell after clipping a thick collar around his neck. The Liesmith winces, and the metal seems to burn at his skin as the new runes flare to life. You look at the small bracelet in your hand as they slam the door. You don't hear screams. There is only dripping water as you are dragged out of the cell next. Not that you can hear it over the soldier they're using to try to force you to tell what you know. It's only after he's dead that you hear the wail that must be the younger son of Odin. The sound is faint, and it may just be your heart screaming at you for what you've done, but you can barely hear it. 

          They strap you down in the hopes that you'll be compliant, but they are wrong. You rage on the inside, swearing their deaths. On the outside, you scream as they cut on you and burn you. You can't help but laugh at them when they get nothing from you. You're certain they are actually asking you things, but you aren't paying any attention at all. Your mouth taste like blood and every muscle in you burns with pain, but you don't care. They will get nothing from you.

          When they're finished, they drag you back to the cell, your legs not seeming to respond to your thoughts. When the door is open, they throw you in, and you anticipate the pain and shock of hitting the hard ground. It never comes. Arms wrap around you and lower you to the floor. The door slamming shut is dull in your ears, but it sends a tremor through you, seeming to reverberate all the way into your bones. 

          "Foolish, foolish woman." the snake hisses at you. 

          You choke on the blood in your throat, leaving speckling on his face. You can't stop laughing.

          "There is nothing funny about your predicament, wretch."

          "Just highly amused." you cough. "They just ask the same questions over and over."

          His hand gently presses against your ribcage and you shy away from his fingers, wincing. "And they got the same answer every time, by the look of you."

          You shove at his prying hands. "This surprises you?"

          Loki snaps at you to stop pushing him away. "I'm trying to help you, halfwit."

          "And I say it hurts, so stop!"

          "Fine." 

          His hands leave you and the pain returns to you. You grab his hand. "Kidding. Kidding. Keep going."

          He barks out a sour laugh. "You certainly don't seem to want my help."

          Silvertongue does put his hand back on your side and you can feel him gently treating your burns and cuts. He's curiously silent, not attacking your stupidity or anything similar. You set your face into a deep scowl and he chuckles. 

          "Expecting me to yell at you?"

          "Something like that."

          "If you could see yourself now, I don't think you could handle any yelling, or any actions otherwise." You huff, but otherwise don't bother him. His hands eventually move to your arms and he looks carefully at your hand. "You had this before." he brushes his thumb over the crusted hole in your palm.

          "Not before you got here, but-"

          "No, I know. I will give you credit where it is due. You can take a beating."

          "Anyone can take a beating."

          "Yes, but you are much more pleased with torture than any normal person would be."

          You huff. "More amused by their methods than anything else."

          "Anyone who is amused by torture probably isn't sane."

          You muse over it for a few minutes, watching him as he works. His hair occasionally gets in his way, and he flicks it over his shoulders. That's when you notice the burn marks around the edge of the collar. 

          "How are you healing with the collar?"

          Loki grumbles under his breath before answering. "Slowly."

          You aren't sure when you come to the realization that he's burning himself to help you. You push his hand away and sit up. "Stop."

          "Why? I've almost finished."

          "You're burning your neck."

          "A little pain is worth repaying a debt."

          You look up at him. Narrowing your eyes, you try to figure out if he's using you for some purpose. The only thing you find is an expression you don't know how to read. 

          "Twice now I'm alive when I should not be, yet you claim to hate me. As displeased as I am to owe something to an ungrateful wretch like you, I do owe you."

          "Liesmith-"

          "Why do you not address me by name? Surely you know it." he hisses. "And I don't believe I've told you a lie as of yet."

          "You expect me to give you a courtesy when you have yet to earn it? You must be a fool."

          "I am a prince." he reminds you.

          "Then take your entitlement somewhere else, princy." 

          You get up, your body sore, and start to pace around the room. Silvertongue does not follow, only sitting back against the wall with bloody hands.  _My blood._ You think. It's a few hours before you realize that he's meditating, not having spoken a word or uttered a single sound. You, on the other hand, had been working out, since the snake had so _kindly_ healed most of your wounds. You're on about your five hundredth set of push-ups when Silvertongue rouses. 

          "Are you ever going to stop doing that?"

          "What else do I have to do?" you huff, continuing. "Not all of us laze around napping while they're waiting for the next round of torture."

          "You could sharpen that arrow and cut your irritating tongue out."

          "And wouldn't you just love that?" you growl.

          "Unfortunately, I doubt it would shut you up."

          As you flip over to do another set of sit-ups, you find the Liesmith across the room from where you saw him last. You realize that every time you come up, he's subtly watching you. With your baggy undershirt clinging to you, you aren't sure what there is to see besides your hair getting steadily messier. 

          "I can feel your gaze, Silvertongue."

          "Why waste your strength?"

          "I don't need strength for torture. Just a will of iron."

          "They don't seem to be feeding anyone, and I doubt we're the only two here-"

          "We're not."

          He turns to you, his brow lowered. "What happened while you were gone?"

          "There was another soldier in the room with me. Obviously, they didn't think him as important as me. They tortured him instead." you puff out a long breath before continuing to work. "When I wouldn't say anything, they killed him and went back to me."

          "What if that soldier had been someone you loved? Would you speak then?"

          Stopping as you come up, you rest your arms on your knees. "Everyone I love is dead. There is no one left for me to bargain for."

          The prince stares at you for a long moment. "Fortunately for us, I suppose." he says quietly.

          You don't think his words were intended to hurt, but they do. 

          "You should rest. I'll keep watch."

          "You think I trust you not to stab me in the back?" you say, but you do slide up against the wall and lie down on your side.

          You hear an amused chuckle which makes you lift your head. "It's, sadly, like you said. We need each other to get out of here."

          "I never said that."

          "Oh, yes. That's right. Better chances. Still don't need me though, even if I am one of the most powerful sorcerers in the nine realms." his sarcastic barb strikes you as rude.

          You stand up, wiping sweat from your brow. His back is to you again, so you tug on the collar around his neck. He snags your hand before he remembers that it's only you. Though you can tell that doesn't make him feel any better. 

          "We should get this off you."

          "You think I trust you not to stab me in the neck?"

          A good-natured huff leaves your mouth before you can stop it. "Touche."

          He scoffs lightly, taking a couple steps away from you. "It's likely they'll notice if we do manage to get it off."

          "We could scratch off the runes, like we did earlier."

          He looks over at you, a brow raised.

          "You'll just have to trust me, Liesmith."

          He frowns, and opens his mouth just as the door is clicked open. It swings outward, but no one waits on the other side.

          Silvertongue pokes his head out of the room. "There's something not right here."

          You look out too, watching other prisoners creep out of their cells. You recognize a few of them, others too scarred or bloody to make out. 

          You retreat into the cell, and the Liesmith follows you. "So, don't leave the cell?"

          He nods. "Whatever is going on must be a trap."

          "Do you think they'll know we aren't playing their game?"

          He tugs at the collar around his neck, wincing. "We'll just have to hope not."

          You nod, sitting down against the wall. Silvertongue seems to be frozen in place, his eyes closed. 

          "I can't see a way out of here." he says finally.

          You rest your head on your hand as he settles next to you. "I hate waiting."

          The snake hands you your arrow. "Snap to it, then. We'll need all the help we can get."

          With a little difficulty, he manages to make a reflection of the collar across his hand. "There are only three that you'll really have to-"

          You completely ignore him, raising the the arrow to strike. His eyes widen a fraction, but you know what you're doing. The tip of the arrow wedges into a weak spot, created by a rune etched just a bit too deeply, and you break the rest of the way through with just enough force to snap the thin slip of metal underneath.

          "They're going to notice and search this room eventually if you keep doing that."

          "I'd rather have the only real weapon at my disposal at full power. You know?"

          "You have your arrow, yet you refuse to sharpen that."

          You give it to him. "You do it."

          "I think it would be more satisfying to watch you find some way to sharpen it yourself."

          "I think we should hide it."

          He slides it up against the wall and waves a hand over it. "There. Just remember that spot."

          You fall asleep waiting for something bad to happen, and even in your sleep, you can feel the anxiety rolling off of the Prince of Darkness. 

          You open your eyes to the dripping water sound from earlier, and the room is dark and cold. The Liesmith is gone, which makes you instantly suspicious, as the door is shut again. You look around for where the water is coming from, only startling when it drops into your skin. Blood, not water. You look up. A scream tears from your mouth and you drop to the floor, scooting back and covering your mouth. The Liesmith's body is tied to the ceiling above you, throat ripped open and his armor shredded.

          A hand shakes your shoulder and you turn, seeing no one. The Liesmith's voice comes from the body above your head.  _Where is your escape now?_ His mouth doesn't move, but you can hear him nonetheless. The room around you starts to glow with heat, and suddenly you're in a burning house. Silvertongue's body drops from the ceiling and when you roll him over, it's not the prince, but your little brother. You can hear your parents' screaming from their room, since there is no escape. There never was.  _All alone._ The Liesmith taunts.

          "Wake!" a voice snaps, and you jolt upright, sucking in a breath of air as you choke on a sob.

          When you finally open your eyes, you can still smell burning wood around you. You cough. You glance around for the person who woke you, settling on the prince hovering just off to your left. He only watches you, saying nothing.

          "What?!" you snap.

          Still, he says nothing, only his brow furrowing when you wave your hand in front of him. 

          "What is it, snake?"

          "Troubling." is all he says.

          "You weren't in my head, were you?"

          Slowly, he looks up at you. "What was that?"

          You grumble under your breath. "A nightmare."

          His gaze rests heavily on you. 

          "What? Stop staring."

          "That was some nightmare."

          "You want to judge me now?" you scowl, getting up and rubbing your arms. "Pity me?"

          "I want the truth."

          A sharp bark of laughter leaves your mouth. "The god of lies wants the truth. Irony abounds."

          His scowl deepens at your defensiveness, but his tone stays even. "Is that really how your family died?"

          You pause, glancing back at him. The crease in his brow is gone, his scowl too, and all that's left is an innocent look that you want to smack right off of him. And you want to because it's so.... sincere.

          You whisper the answer quietly before settling next to him again. "That's why there is no one."

          "I suppose that would explain some of your attitude."

          You shove lightly at his shoulder. "I suppose you think that's funny, huh?"

          There's a hint of a smile on his face, but when he catches you looking, it fades into a frown. As little as it helped, you do appreciate his attempt to make light of the situation. He doesn't make another effort to calm you.

          "I guess we are both alone."

          You look at him. "You have your family, Liesmith."

          "Do I?"

          He's staring at his hands like he was before, as if seeing something other than his own. With them cradled in his lap and his head down, he looks like a small child. 

          "I doubt it'll make you feel better, but I'm sitting right here, for the foreseeable future."

          He chuckles darkly. "You're right. It doesn't make me feel better."

          It doesn't take long for both of your moods to go sour after that, barely speaking to each other. It's only when they come for you again that you look back at Silvertongue. His lips form a thin line, but he nods to offer solidarity. When you're returned to him, four long hours later, your head feels like it's on fire and your tongue must be made of lead. You lost feeling in your body almost an hour ago.

          You're sure it's not long after when he's dragged from your side, but the world is so fuzzy, you can barely hear him threatening them. Exhausted, you turn painfully onto your side and put your back against one of the walls. A swell of anxiety rises in your chest when there is nothing but silence for a long while. You count seconds, which turn into long minutes. When the door swings open, you think you should feel relieved, but all you really feel is trepidation.  _What kind of shape will he be in?_

          Cracking one eye open, you watch them throw the prince back into the cell. He lands on his side, rolling once, twice, and then he stops in front of your prone form, his back to you. He doesn't say anything, makes no move to get up. All you can see is that after a little while, his steady breathing breaks down into muffled crying. You give him time, but when that doesn't seem to be working, you try to get his attention. 

          "Silvertongue."

          The moniker makes it worse before you hear him in your mind.  _Help me!_

          Startling from your position on the floor, you groan in pain, but still manage to crawl around Loki's form. Surprise mingled with horror flows through you when you see the Liesmith's face, his lips sewn shut and blood everywhere. He won't look at you, ashamed to be seen so weak. You make sure that no one is coming back anytime soon before reaching for the arrow hidden near the wall. The small illusion disperses as you put your hand through it and you crawl back over to the prince. 

          "Loki."

          His eyes snap open when you say his name, softly and gently. He stares at you. You hold up the arrow. 

          "Sharpen it quick for me?"

          His gaze softens on you for the first time since he was tossed into your cell, a glimmer of faint amusement in his eyes. Within the space of half a second, the head of your arrow is sharp. You ignore the pain in your limbs and turn Loki's head so that you don't accidentally cut him instead of the horrible sutures. He squeezes his eyes shut, but you coax him to focus on you. You talk quietly, and you're not even sure what it's about until you realize you're talking about the fire. 

          He's enraptured by your words, but every once and a while, a small whimper leaves him. You quiet him as best you can, having no mothering skills whatsoever. You aren't sure telling him to 'man up' would be a good idea, either. 

          You're finished before you know it and you watch his seidr flow to heal him once the thread is gone. He expresses his gratitude very quietly, and you hesitantly place a hand on his head. He doesn't try to move away or scowl in disgust, so you decide that the action must have been a welcome one. You sleep in front of him, as you had the first night, and again, he pulls you closer in his sleep. It's significantly better, since he's not clammy this time. He's still cold. He always seems to be.

          You wake up feeling remarkably better, though it's still dark outside, as evidenced by the lack of light shining through the slit. You rub your face and look around for the prince. 

          He's meditating in the corner again. With a sigh, you begin your morning routine. If Loki minds your racket, he doesn't say anything. 

          "You break any of those wards yet?" you ask, panting. 

          "Only a few."

          "Enough to blow a hole out of here?"

          "No."

          You take a long look at the Liesmith. He glances up, feeling your gaze. You try not to think about the stitches, but your brain doesn't listen to you any more than you listen to Loki. Loki, of course, catches your silent battle with yourself and a light frown crosses his face.

          "Don't tell me you're trying to decide whether or not to pity me."

          You shake your head. "I think many things, Liesmith, but I do not pity you. It wouldn't be the first time, since Odin so kindly put you through that once already."

          At the mention of Odin's deed, the prince's face darkens, nearly murderous.

          "It's just a hard image to get rid of." You finish quietly.

          Silvertongue only acknowledges your words with a nods of his head. He shuts his eyes and goes back to meditating. For once, you take a break from routine and sit down next to him. His right eye cracks open to peer at you and the corner of his mouth twitches up. 

          "And just what do you think you're doing?" He hums, bemused.

          "Just sitting."

          Silvertongue shakes his head, returning to his former position. You aren't so sure about meditating with him, but a nap sounds in order right about now. You lean back against the wall and shut your eyes.

          You don't get a very long nap. Loki wakes you as the guards come again, but this time, they take you both in the same direction. You realize that something different is happening.

          "Liesmith, I have a bad feeling."

          "You've got one too? I was praying that was all in my head." He grouses.

          As they travel, they fall into line with other captives being dragged to the same place. Some of them murmur in surprise when they realize that the Liesmith is among the captured. Their reactions are mixed, some hopeful and others not.

          You peer at the dormant collar around the prince's neck and smile. At least one thing is in your favor if something awful happens. 

          You are all dragged into an arena and you groan. The sound draws Silvertongue's attention, but you shake your head.

          A voice booms across the arena and you look for the source. "Since the heir to Asgard's throne hasn't taken an interest in paying your ransom, you will be our entertainment until further notice."

          Loki hisses under his breath. "That is the leader of the opposing side." 

          "Then why hasn't he used you yet?"

          The Liesmith shrugs. "No idea."

          "And tonight, our entertainer shall be.... her."

          Everyone's eyes land on you, being the only female captive, and you shrug casually, standing up and mimicking a move you had seen Silvertongue pull off many times.

           "Perhaps if you give me a weapon, I would be inclined to oblige." You huff, folding your hands behind your back. That had never failed to irritate Thor when the Liesmith did it.

          When you first met Loki, he had the exact same expression on his face that you now wear. Just the right right amounts of indulgent, nonchalant, and amusement to tick someone off. It had worked on you after all.

          You can feel Silvertongue's eyes on you, but you ignore him, focusing on the tyrant you see up in his makeshift throne. His eyes narrow. 

          "And oblige us, you shall."

          They haul the other prisoners off the arena floor into the stands on your left. You watch the guards shackle them down to the seating before returning your attention to the king.

          You tip your chin up a little, pride rolling off of you. "If I might have the courtesy of a name for my audience."

          "Very well. I am King Hakulg, leader of five armies, and destroyer of legions."

          You give an indulgent chuckle, tipping your gaze to the ground before looking up at Hakulg. "Surely if you were that important, our armies might have heard of you."

           ** _You've been watching me._**

          Your fingers twitch behind you as Silevrtongue's voice enters your thoughts for a second time. He doesn't seem offended, only curious as to why you'd be paying so much attention.

          You answer him, of course.  _You and Thor argue all the time. It's hard not to watch._

          His only answer is an amused chuckle. 

          One of the guards hands you a sword, which you swing a few times to test it's balance.  _It's terrible._

          The king lifts a hand and a section of the arena wall is pulled open to let a barbarian out. He wears gladiator armor, studded with metal. Long brown hair dangles from his head, and the smile on his face is savage. Scars line his body, showing a battle-hardened identity. A mace with deadly sharp blades hangs from his right hand.

          You look to King Hakulg. 

          "To the death! Let us see if the warriors of Asgard are worthy of their title."

          The barbarian steps slowly towards you and you glance down at yourself. There are still a couple of burns on you, but the Liesmith did a good job in healing you earlier. You have no armor to speak of, and the most protected part of you is probably your feet, your thick leather boots scuffed, but in one piece.

          You raise your sword as the barbarian nears. He laughs as he towers over you by nearly two feet. You can feel the tension of the soldiers behind you and you shoot them a confident glance. 

          The barbarian strikes. You duck the swing of his mace and deflect his recovery swing with your sword. You back out of the way of his next strike, but one of the blades nicks your cheek. You advance, ignoring the sting of pain in your face, stepping into his personal space to make it hard for him to swing. You roll around to his back, slicing at the back of his leg with your short sword. He yells in pain, turning around faster than you would have anticipated. His mace hits your shoulder, sending you to your back. Fire courses through your shoulder and a groan leaves your mouth.

          You see the mace coming at you and you roll to the side, barely avoiding being bludgeoned in the head. Tossing your sword to your other hand, you push your sword up under the barbarian's ribs while he's picking up his mace. He kicks at you to get you away and his breathing turns labored. 

          You get to your feet, holding your sword a little awkwardly in your opposite hand. You smirk at the barbarian as blood trails down his side and he stumbles, his grip on his weapon loosening. Still, with a moment to recover, he rushes you. Your sword clangs against the mace head and you turn your back to him, elbowing him in the throat and wrestling his weapon from his hand. He stumbles back, gasping. You turn, swinging the mace, though your shoulder burns with pain. It lands square in the middle of his chest and he slams onto his back. You don't have to look to know how his chest looks, blood coating the blades of the mace. He crawls to his feet, his armor beyond ripped and blood dripping from his mouth.

          You throw his mace in the dirt at his feet. He looks at it for a second, wheezing, but still picks it up. You're sure the Liesmith will scold you later, but a fair fight is a fair fight. As fair as it can get when you have no armor.

          Despite your opponent's state, he still fights fairly well, and you're starting to tire. He knocks the butt of his mace into your jaw and sweeps your feet out from under you. As he comes at you, you kick at his chest and flip over, getting back to your feet and swinging your sword. You close your eyes as his head drops to the ground, turning back to the king. 

          "Satisfactory, Hakulg?"

          His face is impassive, and he makes a gesture with his hand to the guards. They drag you up to the stand and sit you down next to the Liesmith. You note that they're keeping pairs together that must be cellmates. They grab onto Silvertongue's arms and drag him to the center of the arena. King Hakulg is silent upon his throne when he sees the prince. 

          "What happened to your punishment, trickster?"

          Loki raises his brow. "You think that would stop me?"

          The king scratches at his chin. "If we cannot stop you, why are you still here?"

          "I will admit that the warding on this place is impressive." he finally smiles. "Your interrogators are less so."

          Hakulg is not amused, standing from his throne and stepping down into the dirt. "What do you think, Prince of Darkness? Should we send your brother a message?"

          He's wrestled to his knees, head jerked back by his hair. 

          "Be careful. We wouldn't want to rough him up too much." The king says, but he waves a hand to his soldiers.

          They proceed to beat him and you watch as he takes it with dignity. His green eyes flare with anger by the time they're finished, but he is suitably bruised. The soldiers around you murmur. 

          'Why doesn't he fight back?' and 'Why hasn't Thor come for his brother?'. Others whisper about escape being hopeless.

          You can see the tell-tale signs of his seidr, but he's stopping it for some reason. Then you remember the collar around his neck that is supposed to be active. You know that it's not, but you know that the Liesmith must keep up the act if he expects to be able to get out of here.

          The king writes a letter to Thor in Loki's blood, a black crow carrying the message once he's finished. The cut where the blood came from wells on his skin before dripping onto the ground.

          When the other soldiers see the state of their prince as he's marched back to the stands, they wince in sympathy. You, on the other hand, grin at him, and he offers you a smirk in return. The other soldiers see it and watch Silvertongue's skin clear of wounds once the guard's back are turned. 

          He sits quietly next to you while the other soldiers are taken out into the arena. Some win their fights, and others are killed. He doesn't make Silvertongue fight until last. 

          His enemy is large, a stone golem. It's a joke: a mockery of Loki's size compared to a 'real' soldier. Loki is handicapped, due to the fact that he can't use his magic too much. He summons twin daggers to his hands and grimaces as the collar 'burns' at his neck. It's an illusion, you know, a lie to keep up appearances, but it's hard to miss the way his eyes squeeze shut in irritation. Hard to miss for you, anyway. You aren't sure anyone else saw anything but the collar burning him. The king is wearing a huge smile across the arena, and you despise him a little.  _Okay, a lot._

          The soldiers whisper among each other about Loki's disadvantage and you kick one in the head. He turns and you shake your head, glancing at the guard standing at the top of the rows before speaking lowly. 

          "The prince is at no disadvantage."

          "I thought you hated Loki, and his brother, though Thor is well-liked by everyone." Bjorst growls. 

          "I do, but you shouldn't underestimate him. That liar has more than one trick up his sleeve."

          Bjorst's eyebrows shoot up and he glances down at the snake. "You know something we don't?"

          You smirk. "He is my cellmate."

          The other soldiers look to you, a kindling of hope rippling through them at your reassurance. Something about your own words bother you though. You don't hate the prince. At least, you don't hate him like you did when you first met him.

          Loki slams into the wall just below the stands where you sit, rock crumbling around him. You finally look back at the golem. A piece of his head is missing and one of his hands is gone. His bludgeon has blood on it and you strain to get a good look at the prince. There's blood on his face from a fresh cut on his brow, and there's a loose flap of leather on his thigh that you would guess is hiding a wound of some sort behind it. Still, Silvertongue persists, hopping out of the mess he'd made and stalking (albeit a little jerkily) around the golem. He uses the giant mass of the golem to his advantage, sliding between his giant legs and climbing up onto his back, jamming his daggers into the golem's neck.

          The golem grabs him, howling mad with pain and rage, slamming him into the ground and punching him repeatedly. It's only when Loki disappears that the golem fumbles. The Liesmith appears a few feet away, panting, when he grips the collar on his neck and stumbles, staggering to the ground. Blood runs from a head wound somewhere along his hairline and his lip is split. He hurls a dagger at the back of the golem's head, his aim true. The already damaged rock splinters into fragments and the golem goes down. He crawls back to his feet, and you notice than he's a little unsteady.

          He turns to face the king. "Are you happy now,  _your majesty?_ " Loki croons, bowing, sarcasm flowing from every ounce of his being. 

          "A grand display, trickster. You've earned some food, little god."

          You're all hauled away from the arena and back to your cells. Loki seems rather pleased with himself and you can't help but shake your head and smile. When they leave you both alone in your cell, you and he sit closer together than usual, his careful hands healing your wounds.

          "You fought well." Loki hums. 

          "And you were grandstanding, Liesmith."

          "So what if I was?" he huffs, ripping the shoulder of your shirt to get to your wound. He pulls a sharp spike from your shoulder, handing the bloody blade to you. "Another lovely little weapon to add to our stash."

          He was right. You were accumulating a lovely amount of weapons in the corner of the room. Loki is a pickpocket, it seems. And a good one, at that. So far you have the arrow, three daggers, a spoon, and now the sharp spike in your hand. 

          The Liesmith takes a moment to speak, but when he does, it's almost exactly what you thought it would be. "Your little stunt with the king. You watch me more closely than your words imply."

          "Because I don't trust you."

          He is silent, but he presses a healing hand to your cheek. "Don't you?"

          "No."

          "Why?"

          You stay resolutely quiet, but he doesn't press you and you find yourself almost wanting to tell him. Almost. He had allowed himself to face you in a vulnerable state, and now it's your turn.

          "The fire that destroyed my house."

          "If I may, how was it started?"

          He finishes healing your cuts and settles back against the wall next to you. He doesn't put his usual amount of space between you.

          "It was another war when I was young. They were hiding in our village, and the army opened fire. You and your brother gave the orders that destroyed my home and my life."

          He is, yet again, silent for a moment before answering you. "I am.... sorry that our actions cost you so much."

          You nod, not sure if you can forgive him or not. 

          "You joined the army anyway?" he asks, curiosity coloring his tone. 

          "I wanted to-" you swallow. "I had to, to face my fear."

          A light smile crosses his features. "And you stayed."

          "Turns out I was destined for blood and war."

          He chuckles, looking up at the ceiling. "Ah. And yet, that is how we ended up here."

          "I ended up here because my war horse was shot out from underneath me and they knocked me out."

          "So that's how it happened. I had been wondering if your story was as... _eventful_ as mine."

          "I didn't get struck by an arrow."

          Loki laughs and you look at him. There's still blood on his face, but his lip is healed. He's in remarkably good condition for his treatment, and you're almost jealous of his ability to heal, but you can't bring yourself to be. He is sharing with you after all.

          After a little while, you both jolt as the door opens, and they throw in a loaf of bread. Loki is not amused by its state.

          He snaps his fingers and the bread goes from moldy to fresh out of the bakery. You smile as he breaks off half of it to give it to you. He makes it really difficult for you to hate him. 

          For the next couple of days, nothing really eventful happens, and you and Silvertongue spend most of the time sleeping. He tentatively offers his warmth on the second night and you sigh, scooting over and resting in front of him. 

          "It wouldn't be the first time, Liesmith."

          "I know."

          "It's not even the second time."

          You can feel him frown behind your back. "It's not?"

          "You weren't conscious for the first time. And you, well, you kinda died afterwards."

          He chuckles and his breath is warm against your ear. "Ah, and then your heroic rescue."

          "It wasn't heroic." you murmur.

          "You'll excuse my bold terms. I would be the one dead if not for your actions."

          You remember his coldness, and you remember trying to get him to breathe, to get his heart pumping. 

          "You do realize that you kissed a corpse, yes?"

          You scowl. "I didn't kiss anyone. And even if I had, I doubt your corpse would be the one I chose."

          "Well, I was certain the taste in my mouth wasn't anyone else's in the room."

          Your face is on fire and you have half a mind to sock him in the nose.

          "Was it that bad?" Loki huffs. 

          "You were dead. What do you think?"

          He laughs again, and you can't help but enjoy the sound. "I don't think you want to know what I think."

          "No, go ahead. I want to hear what dreadful opinion you have on our supposed 'kiss', in which you were a dead body on the floor, hardly an active participant."

          "When I woke up, you didn't seem  _completely_ appalled." 

          You don't think your face will be able to get any more red before you burst into flames. "I was more stunned that my attempt to revive you was actually successful, that and almost disappointed that it worked."

          "You don't seem very disappointed now."

          You're quiet for a few moments. "I just- I-" you stop, trying to come up with a response. "I've seen plenty that I can respect."

          He huffs. "You don't respect me."

          "How do you know what I do and don't do?"

          "You won't speak my name, or address me by my title. You called me a coward."

          "What would you like me to call you?"

          His breathing stops for a short second, and you realized that you managed to surprise him. "My name, if you please."

          "Fine then, Loki."

          "There, was that so hard?"

          "It's all I've ever called you, among other things."

          He hums. "Such as?"

          "Liesmith, as you well know, Silvertongue, prince asshole, snake, Dark Prince, princy-"

          "All right, all right. I get the point." Loki says, rubbing your arm as he feels you shiver. "Basically you called me everything except my name."

          You shrug. "I had no reason to call you by anything that implied I had any respect for you at all."

          "Not even a little?" Loki says, blunt for the first time.

          "You have your moments."

          He bristles a little. "To what  _moments_ are you referring?"

          You laugh dryly. "'What moments', he asks. You really have no idea, do you? You get into more trouble than any other Asgardian I know."

          "I suppose that is true, but all you would know about would be rumors."

          "So you're saying there's more than just what I've heard?" you grin. 

          "It's like you said, you know. Being raised royalty, my every need is catered to. I get bored on occasion."

          You laugh before a heavy-laden sigh leaves you. You and Loki lie there in silence for a little while, his breaths puffing out softly. You take a moment to just enjoy being held, someone warm behind you. In the silence you have time to think, and to observe, and you find that Loki has a nice scent to him. It's a little diluted by the smell of blood, but you can detect what's more him just under it. Despite him being colder than you most times, the scent is warm, like honey and leather. His raven black hair tickles your neck and you find yourself thinking about his sharp cheekbones. For a few moments, you're confused as to why those thoughts come unbidden to your mind. 

          Loki finally speaks, breaking your quiet reverie. "Do you respect me now?"

          Without meaning to, you blurt the first thing on your mind. "I respect those cheekbones." You clap a hand over your mouth and flush.

          "I beg your pardon?" Loki answers slowly. 

          " _Nothing_." you say, all to quickly.

          "Is that so?"

          You squeeze your eyes shut, hoping that the cell floor will open up and swallow you. Thankfully, Loki doesn't press. He only pulls you a little closer and falls into an easy sleep. You keep asking yourself what in Odin's name in happening as you relax into his grip, deciding that the Norns can do what they please with your fate.  _Even if it does make my stomach twist wondering what they have in store._

          Sleep clouds your mind heavily and you only wake when Loki is being torn from your side. You sit up, but don't say a word, catching his eyes as he's dragged away. They leave you alone this time, leaving you to wonder at what they're doing to him. You can hear other mens' screams, but none of them that you recognize as Loki's. You don't think you'e ever actually heard Silvertongue scream while you were in a lucid state. They return him to you bloody, barely walking. Whatever they used to get through his skin did a good job of it. When the door is shut, he crashes into a heap.

          You scramble up from the floor to roll him over and he swallows. You get him to lie flat on his back and he groans, his seidr flowing weakly across his skin. 

          "Loki?"

          He swallows again. "Just... give me a moment."

          You clean up a little blood form his face, noting that about half of his leather is ripped in some place or another. Another groan of pain leaves his mouth and you can tell he's exhausted.

          "Loki?" you say again.

          His chest heaves and he coughs. He grips your hands a little too tight when you offer them to him, but you can't bring yourself to pull away. You pull him back into the darkest corner of the room and put his back against your chest, gripping his around the shoulders. He has no objections, continuing to heal while in the relative safety of your grasp. It's when his breathing finally eases that you know he's finished, but he doesn't pull away. 

          You offer him a little of your bread from earlier and he takes it gratefully, murmuring that it was his bread to begin with, having earned it fair and square. 

          "The bread you earned was moldy, and disgusting."

          "But I fixed it." he retorts, a slight slur to his words. 

          "You sure did." you're quiet for a moment before choosing careful words. "A few days ago, you asked if you really had your family. What did you mean by that?"

          "I...."

          "I'm sure you can tell me just about anything at this point, Loki. I won't judge you."

          He sighs. "I am a Frost Giant."

          You smile. "Sounds pretty cool."

          "My father always taught me that they were monsters."

          "Well, your father taught you wrong."

          To prove it to you, he shows you his blue skin, though you aren't sure how that was supposed to convince you that he's a monster. Loki is too tired to try to get you to hate him, but he does complain that you're being too relaxed for his big secret.

          "All it does is explain why you're so cold all the time."

          You laugh quietly before telling him to rest. They take you while he's sleeping, and you get up from his side to keep him that way, so they can't roughly drag you out with the same display they had earlier. The image of him sleeping peacefully rests in your mind while they work you over, and you find yourself completely separated from the pain. His smooth voice soothes you and you almost miss when the torture ends. They dump you back in the room without so much as a second glance. You look out the slit to see how much sun is left. They had barely been at it for an hour before they gave up. 

          You can hear guards just down the hallway if you focus on them, and you listen in. 

          "-ould be better off just to be rid of her if she refuses to talk."

          "No! She's important on the battlefield. She knows things that others don't. We'd be losing a valuable source of information if we killed her." a second voice hisses.

          "What use is what she knows if she won't tell us?"

          "She's not the only one." there's a third voice now. "There are other ranking prisoners in here too, and they haven't spoken a word besides cursing and swearing."

          "I would have thought they should have broken by now. Especially her. Asgardian healing makes it almost impossible to make wounds stick, though."

          Their conversation moves away from you and you slouch against the door, pressing a hand to the side of your face.  _They won't get rid of you. Not yet. Loki hasn't said anything either._  You lie back down behind Loki and absently play with a couple loose strands of his hair. 

          "You didn't wake me when you left."

          You shake your head. "You needed the rest."

          He nods quietly, not saying anything else. You wrap your arms around him again and his hands latch onto you. 

          "What do you suppose is taking Thor so long?" Loki whispers. 

          "He's probably looking for you, and trying to negotiate in a way that won't hurt Asgard. He's hoping to find you first so that he doesn't have to negotiate at all."

          Loki nods again. You spend the next few days like that, quietly reassuring each other, and giving comfort after increasing nightmares. The king hauls all the prisoners out for another spectacle in the arena. You spot some new faces among the soldiers, and the younger ones gasp in surprise when they see Loki. 

          "Prince Thor has been looking everywhere for you."

          Loki says nothing, shaking his head and nodding towards the king. "Don't speak."

          As per usual, you fight first, another gladiator twice your size with a shield and a lash. And as per usual, Loki fights last, a bilgesnipe probably scrounged up from some secluded corner of Asgard. Its antlers manage a score across Loki's side and he's limping before the end of the match. You both earned food this time around, though it's in the same condition as the last loaf of bread that Loki got. He changes that quickly enough, but you can tell that he's tiring more quickly than usual. Back in the quiet chamber of your prison cell, you watch his eyes as he gingerly presses his fingers to the lesions across your thigh. When he moves around to your back, you shut your eyes.

          You groan softly before speaking. "I think you're keeping me sane."

          "I was thinking the same thing." Loki says quietly.

          The guards don't leave either of you alone for nearly as long as the last time, dragging Loki out first. Again, you coax him to sleep before they come for you and they try and fail to gain information from you. They keep at it for far longer, a current coursing through your weakening frame. You spit blood at them and then they beat you. Even then you don't speak, so they give up again. You are tossed to the floor of the cell, and Loki turns you over. 

          "I don't need to sleep. You shouldn't leave me asleep. I didn't know where- I didn't know- I don't need to sleep. I needed you." he breathes, and you can see his terror at losing you now.

          He heals you and you hug him. "I'm sorry. Next time I'll wake you. All right?"

          Loki clutches to your back. Tears roll down your face for the first time in days and Loki holds you as you quietly sob into his deteriorating leather. He doesn't try to quiet you, or stop you in any way, just letting you cry. 

          "I'm almost through the wards, you know."

          The good news makes you cry harder and he rubs your back. He curls around you protectively that night, keeping you as close as possible.

          It's about midnight, maybe, when he finishes and he sits up. He figures out where you're being held once he's through. He lets you in on his message to Thor as he reaches out over however many leagues they are away. When Thor confirms that the army is coming, you nearly burst into tears. 

          The king is tiring of Thor's refusal to bargain, but he doesn't seem to be tiring from the arena games. Your sword drips with blood as the barbarian that he set against you slams into the dirt, his flog landing next to his body. Bjorst is killed in his next match, and another three on the newer ones fall under blades and bludgeons. Loki is covered in blood not his own, his strength seemingly renewed with the promise of a rescue. His match is over quickly. 

          Another day passes, and every time one of you is taken from the room, you sit in a constant state of anxiety waiting for the other to return. Loki almost has a panic attack when they return you to him nearly dead at the end of the next day. 

          It's then that Thor's army arrives. You and Loki aren't in any real state to use the weapons that you've accumulated, but you pick them up anyway. As fate would have it, it was Thor that opened the cell door that held you and his little brother. Loki flinches when Thor nears and you give his hand a squeeze as Thor envelops him in a careful hug. He helps Loki from the room, and Loki grabs onto your hand to help you keep up. He would carry you, you know, but you would never allow it. 

          You and Loki are shuffled off to the side of the incursion force, being taken to a tent a little ways away from the building. The sun is too bright and Loki keeps a hand somewhere on you at all times. Loki is stripped of his shredded leather and garments once you reach the medical tent, and the nurses ask you to turn away. 

          "It's nothing she hasn't seen already." Loki growls.

          And he's not wrong. Cuts and bruises are still all over him, his healing having fallen behind two nights ago. He'd been reaching too far for too long. When they finish with him, they move on to you and he demands the utmost respect for your care. You're laid out on separate cots almost clear across the tent, and you keep an eye not him. He does the same, not wanting to lose track of you for a second.

          When Thor returns, he announces that the self-proclaimed King Hakulg is dead (you knew that name was so fake), and that they would begin the long journey back to the capital from there. When Thor enters the hospital tent that night, you're awake and Loki is asleep. You've been taking turns since the nurses left. When he notices how closely you're watching his bother, he comes over to you.

          "You were in the cell with Loki?"

          You look up at the broad shoulders of Loki's older brother. A familiar distaste enters your mouth. "Yes."

          "How is he?"

          "Relieved."

          Thor looks over at his little brother, who looks frail over his his cot. "How is he really?"

          "Terrified that this might be another nightmare."

          Thor's gaze locks onto yours at that and you frown. "You've become close?"

          You don't get a chance to answer before you see the glint of a knife above Thor's head. "Loki, stop!"

          Thor turns, catching his brother's wrist and getting him safely to the floor. "Loki, little brother, it's just me."

          Loki's expression shifts painfully when he recognizes his older brother. "I thought, I- I-I thought-"

          Thor quiets him. "Easy, easy, it's all right, brother. It wouldn't be the first time you've stabbed me even if you had." A pained smile crosses Loki's features. Thor pulls him up and helps him settle in the cot next to you. "There. Now you can see everyone she sees. All right?"

          Loki nods and you curl into his side. Thor leaves you be for a long while before coming to you to inform you both that it's time to move. You follow him out into the morning sun, squinting hard. He leads you to Loki's horse where his is currently tied up as well. The horse is very pleased to see Loki. 

          "Hello, Casmir." he whispers, stroking the black horse's mane.

          Loki rides with you in front of him, your back pressed into his chest. The next few days are rough, filled with a lot of anxiety and panic attacks throughout all of them. Some from you, some from Loki. He's a constant presence at your side. You realize that you should probably spend some time apart to relieve the stress of being so co-dependent on one another, but you aren't sure you'd survive a whole day without your heart stopping. 

          "I know what you're thinking, and the answer is no."

          You laugh. "Still trying to give me orders, Silvertongue? I would think you know better by now."

          "I am still a prince. I can give all the orders I'd like."

          "I know, but I still think it would be a good idea."

          "I know. But let's give ourselves a little time to wind down first."

          "Okay."

          And that's exactly what you do. You spend the next two weeks with Loki at the palace, nearly attached at the hip until the two of you can be out of eye-shot for more than two seconds without the terrible feeling that something bad is happening to the other. You meet Frigga, who is very impressed with you. You also meet Odin, who is definitely less than impressed by you. The Warriors Three are fantastic, and you learn that Thor is a huge lumbering puppy, all smiles and warm hugs and drinking.

          You and Loki part ways for a little while, you taking the Bifrost to Vaneheim to hand out with Hogun while you recover your independence. You rub the small stone in your palm while sitting on the guest bed, a bowl of soup in your other hand. Loki's words are inscribed along the outer edge.  _If ever you're in dire need of me, you need only ask._

          The first thing you realize when you're back pretty much on your own is that real life is hard. You work in Hogun's house, barely see the guy most days. You have to get through anxiety attacks alone, the stress nearly undoing you. You eventually get bored and build your own little hut, finally butting out of Hogun's life. The peace is good for you. The farmer's market is even better for you, all the new smells and food always attracting your attention. You learn that you like to fish when you aren't beating the stuffing out of a makeshift training dummy. You learn that taxes suck when the army doesn't pay expenses for you. You can cook, you find, though you've never paid much mind to doing so before.

          It's nearly a month before the stone in your hand grows hot. Thor's voice comes from it. "Loki needs you. It's not good."

          You look up at the clear sky of Vaneheim. "Heimdall, open the Bifrost!"

          The light touches down in front of your door and you emerge from the port where you find a horse waiting for you. Heimdall warns you to ride quickly and you heed him, flying towards the palace. You meet Thor at the city gates who quickly explains what happened while rushing you towards his room. Your footsteps hasten past Thor when you near Loki's door and you find his mother kneeling next to him on the floor. You grab onto his wrist, feeling his heart race against your skin. His eyes are wide open with terror and you place your other hand on his forehead, making it darker around his eyes. 

          "Loki?" you say, giving him a small shake. 

          He doesn't stir. Frigga is watching you intently, as is Thor who is on your right. You ask them nicely to leave, and for them to turn the lights way down on their way out. You look over his shaking form, gently pressing the back of your hand to his forehead. You try every little familiar trick you know that might snap him awake save for one. 

          You grumble before hovering just over Loki's face. "At least you're not a corpse this time."

          Lightly, you press your lips to his. At first he doesn't respond and you grow more insistent. His hand comes up to pull you closer, but you pull away. He's staring up at you, relief in his expression. "It's you."

          "Hi."

          He smiles. "Hi. You came back."

          "Of course I did. You needed me."

          He pulls you closer to kiss you again, a rushed whisper leaving him. "I always needed you."

**Author's Note:**

> Ha-koolg


End file.
